Missing this and that
by AvengingShadow
Summary: First story! Clary is a survivor after a car crash that took someone close to her. Now struggling with the life she was left with after the accident, can Clary overcome her guilt and fears? Or will she succumb to the pain of her life? Disclaimer: I don't own TMI or its characters.
1. Chapter 1

**Hi! I'm a new author and I wanted to try writing a fanfiction based off the mortal instruments characters. Please let me know how my first chapter is! I know it's short, but I enjoyed writing it!**

**I have no experience with the main part of the storyline (Accidents, prosthetics or any of the trauma) but I wanted to write a story about it. It's not meant to offend anyone! I hope you enjoy! **

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"Are you sure you're ready for this?"

I looked over at my brother, his emerald green eyes showing his concern and worry for me. I had grown tired of this question in every form he asked it.

It had been months since the accident. I needed to move on and look to the future. I appreciated my brothers concern, but it was unnecessary.

"Yes Jon. For the - hopefully last time - I'm ready. I need to do this." I replied, refraining from adding a comment about how his over protectiveness was reminding me of a mother hen.

Shaking his head and allowing pale blonde, almost white hair, to fall into his eyes, he said "You don't need to do anything. I know you hated being at home with dad and the housekeeper, but maybe going back to school is a bit soon?"

I sighed before repeating the same argument I'd given the past month. "I need to get back to reality. If I stay at home again, I'll lose it. I don't want to be the sad little girl that..." I couldn't form the words I had planned to say. I could already feel my eyes watering and judging by the glistening surface of Jonathans eyes, he was avoiding shedding his own tears too. "We can't live in the past Jon. I want to move onto the future and to do that, I need to get back my old life."

"Clary...your old life is gone." Jonathan had said the words so calmly and not in a way that insult could be taken, but it still felt like a slap to the face. "Your - Our- old life was gone ever since the accident."

I turned my face to stare at the car next to the Jonathan's. We were in the school parking lot, early because I had to hand in forms to the secretary's office and get my class schedule. All my life seemed like the past few months were remembering the stupid accident. There wasn't a day it wasn't brought up.

"Jon, mom wouldn't want us to pause our lives so we could mourn over her. We need to let her go and move on!" I said more forcibly than I intended.

He flinched, he always did when anyone mentioned her. "You sound like dad."

I couldn't help the humourless chuckle that escaped my lips. "I have been stuck in the same room with him everyday for nearly seven months. I was bound to pick something up off him."

Jonathan frowned, but didn't comment. Instead he asked "You have to get to the offices now, don't you?" I nodded. "Need help? There's steps and your balance on those things isn't-"

"I'm fine!" I snapped before hastily opening the door - slightly denting the adjacent car- and stepping out of the car. A movement I had perfected from countless trips to doctors, therapists and physiotherapists.

"Clare, I'm sorry!" Jonathan called as he too quickly opened his door to hop out.

I grabbed my near empty school bag which only contained a sketchpad, pencil case with pens and pencils and a notebook. I then slammed the door and began to walk away without responding to Jonathan.

I knew it was childish, but he knew it was my way of saying 'leave me alone!'. I looked down at my jeans, hating that beneath them was not all flesh and bone.

Tears sprung to my eyes again as the thought that constantly crossed my mind repeated itself.

My mother lost her life. I lost my legs.

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**What did you think? :) should I continue?**


	2. Chapter 2

"Ms Morgenstern, it's great to see you back." Principal Penhallow said, smiling genuinely.

I gave her a small smile. "Thanks. Um I was told I had to get my class schedule from you?" I asked in hopes of skipping her questions.

"Of course, I just wanted to run through a few things first. We had to change a few classes to accommodate you better."

"Accomidate me better?" I asked, confused.

Penhallow looked uncomfortable as she shuffled through papers on her desk. "Your father and I had a long conversation about your time here. He informed me that you are doing physical therapy in your own time, am I correct?"

I felt my hands fist into balls as I tried to fight off the irritation towards my father. Of course he had informed the principal about that. "Yes. I go three-time a week for an hour." I said bitterly.

Penhallow simply nodded. "We thought it was better that since you were doing supervised excercise outside of school, it would benefit you better to choose an elective subject to substitute your gym class period."

No more gym? I had no problem with that. I didn't have the best co-ordination.

"What are my options?" I asked, excited about the chance of not having to participate in the embarrassing hour of gym class. Especially excited about not having to change in the lockeroom, revealing how I was missing part of my limbs.

Penhallow seemed amused. "Well, you have a few options, but I would encourage an elective that could be put towards a college application or even on a résumé." Pulling out another sheet, this time from one of the filing cabinets standing behind her, she scanned the page before speaking again. She smiled as she said "I know you enjoy art, but you already have a set class for it, so perhaps you should pick an elective that challenges you." She passed the sheet over to me.

I forced myself to not frown. It was true, I loved art, but I hadn't sketched anything in a while. I carried a sketch pad around with me, hoping inspiration would come to me. When I told my brother, he said that maybe I wasn't able to draw anything was because it was a passion I shared with my mother.

I took the sheet before dwelling into that memory.

_Drama_

_Art _

_Journalism_

_Italian_

_Computer science_

_Orchestra_

_photography_

I stared at my options. I wasn't musical. My father had insisted that from a young age, Jonathan and I would have to learn to play an instrument and as we got older, learn to speak a different language fluently. Jonathan played the piano beautifully, able to compose his own songs. I learned violin, but unlike Jonathan, it wasn't passion driven. But we could both speak German, our father insisting we learn it as we were descended from a line of Germans. Our surname, Morgenstern, was German for 'Morning star'.

_"-perhaps you should pick an elective that challenges you." _Penhallows words repeated in my head.

I had always wanted to learn Italian. I had begged my father to let me learn it instead of German, but he had stubbornly refused.

"Italian?" I asked as I handed back the sheet.

Penhallow smiled as she wrote on a piece of paper. "Good, since it's a few months into the years you'll be in in a class that's a bit ahead. But I'm sure if you put in the time and effort, you'll eventually catch up."

"I can do that!" all I had for the past few months was time. "But could you not tell my father?"

Perplexed, Penhallow asked "Why not?"

"He'll intervene and make tutors teach me and I would prefer to do this on my own." I pleaded.

"There's no harm in getting help outside of school." Penhallow said.

I sighed. I didn't want, or need the lecture about 'No harm in letting others help!'. "Can you please just not tell him?"

Penhallow stared at me, although I had no idea what she was searching for. "Fine, as long as you promise to do something in return."

Now it was my turn to be confused. "O-kay?"

Penhallow stood up from her chair and turned towards a table littered in photos and certs. "I have spoken to your brother a few times in the last few months. He always mentions how he worries about you and your father-"

"Really?" I knew Jonathan worried about me, but our father?

Penhallow looked surprised. "Yes. He thinks you are trying to repress your feelings about the accident and that your father is pushing you to."

"My father isn't trying to make me forget." I protested. "In fact, he's be trying to get me to go to shrinks and was even trying to-"

This time, Penhallow interrupted me. "Has your father tried to get you to talk to him about the accident?"

I blinked. "Um...not exactly." I started playing with the hem of my shirt.

"Perhaps that's why Jonathan thinks he's encouraging you to-"

"I'm sorry, but can I go to class before I'm late? I'd rather not draw attention to myself." I said as quickly and politely as I could manage.

Penhallow wasn't happy about being interrupted, but instead of pressing the issue, she handed over my schedule. "Of course. You do remember the layout of the school?"

"Yes. Thank you." I pulled my bag over my shoulder and left the small office as quick as I could manage before being subjected to listen to the rest of her speech.

As I carefully made my way down the steps, my energy already dissipated, I tried to steer my thoughts away from my life at home. I didn't need my thoughts making me angry.

I looked down at my schedule and almost wanted to groan before smiling.

Calculus.

It was a horrible class, but I smiled anyway because it was like I hadn't been absent from school for months. It felt normal to dread going to a class, even one I hated.

There was ten minutes till the bell would ring, normally I would go sit under an oak tree with my sketch pad and enjoy translating my thoughts into pictures. But now, I just wanted to sit somewhere and not have to move for a while. Plus, I had to get my book, so I wouldn't draw more attention to myself if I was able to get my book and find somewhere in the back of the classroom to sit before the rest of the class arrived.

Also, there was more students in the parking lot, I could literally feel their stares drilling holes into me. Jonathan had swore that he had told no one about my amputation, everyone just thought I was out of school because of trauma.

Of course it shocked me to know that I had been noticeably missed.

I had never been popular, in fact, I had enjoyed being invisible. I was never bothered, never put into the spot light and never bullied. Of course people would notice that the schools star athlete whose mother and sister were in a car accident and learn I existed.

There was two steps at the entrance of the main building to the school. Even though the starring made me nervous, I refused to make myself look helpless or clumsy. I carefully moved myself up the steps, clutching the rail so tight my knuckles turned white, I could feel my body shaking with nerves.

Making to the top of the steps, I exhaled in relief. At least I could make it through some part of the day without embarrassing myself.


End file.
